Harry Potter and the Rise of Darkness
by Writer
Summary: A version of the Fifth book. Harry reads up some history of magic and discovers that the future holds secrets best held undisturbed. Indiana Jones-ish sorta
1. Default Chapter

Harry Potter and the Keys of the Dragon  
  
  
Whan that April with its showres soote,  
The drought of March hath perced to the roote,  
And bathed every vein in swich licour,   
Of which vertue engendred is the flowr...  
Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canterbery Tales  
  
It was a miserable day. Despite it being an incredibly hot and dry summer, Nature had   
decided to take a break. It rained as if it was a monsoon, and the water formed little puddles that eventually  
washed away the dust in little rivers of mud.  
Harry Potter stared out the window from his room. He had already finished his homework long  
before, and he couldn't go outside because of the rain. He sighed and sat down on the bed.  
Harry Potter, as he would have liked to describe himself, was a perfectly ordinary wizard.   
He wore glasses, liked to eat good food, and also liked to have a good time.  
It also happened that he had defeated the greatest dark lord of the last century.  
Somewhere, buried in his memory, was a hazy view of a laughter and a bright flash of green.  
He had somehow inexpicably managed to reflect The Dark Lord's curse onto himself, rendering him powerless   
and weaker than a ghost, and had consequently fled.  
The next 13 years had been relatively peaceful, despite the fact that Voldemort, that was his   
name, kept trying to return to power.  
However the last year had been different. Voldemort had risen again.  
Nowadays he was growing steadily more troubled as Harry fitfully dreamed about Voldemort   
murdering his parents, over and over and over again while Harry watched in horror. However whenever he   
awoke, there was nothing save the memories of green light and screaming.  
It didn't help when an owl arrived with a letter saying that he couldn't go over to the Weasley's   
over the summer, that it was too dangerous.  
So Harry Potter, the famous defeater of Lord Voldemort, now sitting on his bed, was bored   
and miserable. He irritably picked up a random book from his bedside. "History of Magical World," he   
read aloud. It was extremely thick and heavy, and it also looked extremely boring, so he flicked it open.  
It opened to a page of a list of Dark Wizards of the last five centuries. Voldemort, more   
commonly known as You-Know-Who, Grindewald, Dasmirov of Russia, Deupardi from France... Harry's   
eyes fell upon another name. Po Wan Gai.   
Odd, Harry had never actually thought of wizarding communities outside of Europe and America.   
Interested, he leaned over for a closer look.  
"Po Wan Gai, more commonly referred to as the Eastern Chosen, originated from southern   
Manchuria. Furious that the Japanese wizards had attempted an invasian of China, he rigourosly applied  
himself to studies and graduated from the Chinese State school of Wizardry with 5 D. Mag. A's. (The   
chinese equivelant of N.E.W.T.s) Upon learning that white magic was primarily designed for defense, he turned   
to the Dark Arts and became the Dark Lord of the East.   
"He gathered a group of highly trained Dark wizards and infiltrated the Japanese Ministry, and  
within a matter of months, he had established a firm network of spies and information sources.  
"Carefully planning his attack on Japan, he analyzed the Japanese Ministry and government for its   
weaknesses, and even got a position as the Japanese Minister of Anti-Intelligence agency. Within five years,   
Po Wan Gai had access to the Japanese Defense Documents. He gathered some more supporters, and   
launched an attack on the Japanese wizarding community.  
"After destroying the main headquarters, Po Wan Gai declared his purpose in life to be finished.   
He vanished from the wizarding world, and has never been seen since.  
"However there are rumors that Po Wan Gai had somehow disappeared while trying to access a   
fabled Japanese Temple where he had encountered ancient magic. According to legend, the temple held the  
prophecy of all the future to come, and whoever read it would be damned with knowledge forever,   
bringing horror to his life. Others say that the temple was not Japanese, but sporadically appears in random  
locations.   
Harry sat back. He had never even heard of Po Wan Gai or the Japanese Ministry. He wasn't   
particularily suprised to discover that there was another Dark Lord in the Asian wizarding communities, he   
just hadn't thought of it before.  
He wondered what had happened to Po Wan Gai. He had not even lost his power, as Voldemort   
had done, nor had died, he had simply disappeared.   
Harry shrugged. He had enough on his mind without another dark wizard troubling it. He lay   
down on the bed and picked up Flying With the Cannons, and began to absently flick through it.  
As the rain lashed against the windows, Harry began to doze.  
  
High pitched laugher.  
-Lily, take Harry and run! I'll hold him off...  
-No please, not Harry, please not Harry...  
-Stand aside you silly girl...  
Laughter.  
Green Light. Pain. Screaming.  
  
Harry jerked awake. His scar was burning.  
  
A/N I dunno. I really hoped you liked it. All of the other fics I've tried are failures. Please read and review. 


	2. A Letter and a Scar

Harry sat bolt upright

Harry sat bolt upright. It had been the first time this summer that his scar had burned. 

Now that it was, Harry was hit by memories of the feelings of suppressed suspense and danger that arrived with it. He rubbed his forehead once or twice. He knew he should write an owl to Dumbledore soon, but he still felt a bit stunned.

It had not been an ordinary twinge. It had been a burning, aching pain that racked his forehead mercilessly. Harry knew with some certainty that Voldemort was up to no good.

A dream had accompanied it. It had been the same dream about Voldemort murdering his parents, but there was some vague mist behind it, in which Harry could see shapes doing… something. He couldn't exactly tell what.

Harry knew more than anyone the abilities his scar had. He knew that he could see Voldemort's actions through it, but this time it had somehow been obscured, as if Voldemort had known about it and had taken precautions. Harry racked his brain. He could see Voldemort behind the mist, that was all. Voldemort was creating something… it seemed like a large, black hole…

Harry grunted in frustration. Everything was slipping away… It couldn't be helped. Harry took up a quill and parchment. He glanced at the clock. 10:55. It wasn't too late by the Dursley's standards; Dudley would be watching Gumbo's Revenge by now. Harry dipped his quill in some scarlet ink and was beginning to write when suddenly something very fast and hard hit the back of his head. 

"Ow," he complained. Harry turned to look for the projectile. He found it hovering in Hedwig's cage, drinking some water and hooting happily. It was Pigwidgeon. Hedwig looked distinctly ruffled and surprised to find a highly excited owl drinking out of her personal cup. It wasn't a very gratifying experience. 

"_Come on, Pig_," said Harry. He reached inside the cage and grabbed Pigwidgeon. It hooted happily as if no owl could ever hope to dream of being grabbed roughly and dragged out of a cage. 

Harry clumsily took the letter off of Pigwidgeon's tiny leg.

Hey Harry,

What's happening over there? I hope you're feeling good. Sorry you couldn't come over for the summer.

Anyway, I wrote to tell you this: Hogwarts is starting early this year.__

Harry paused. Hogwarts, starting early? He couldn't believe his eyes. He rubbed his eyes cautiously, to make sure they were functioning properly. When he looked again, it was still there. 

Yeah, I know. It's great, huh? Something about security against You Know Who, Dumbledore's safe and all. Well, I dunno if the muggles will let you go to King's Cross early, so Mum owled Dumbledore, asking if we could pick you up. He said O.K so we're coming by tomorrow. 9 o'clock. Tell the muggles. We won't be coming by Floo this time, considering last year. Well, see you tomorrow. Get ready. 

Your Friend, 

Ron

P.S Weasley Weezes a SUCCESS! We got loads of gold and we already got you copies of all your textbooks. I got new dress robes and everything's great.

Hogwarts, starting early. Ron, coming tomorrow. Harry sat back and sighed. This was going to be a wonderful head start on the summer. Not only that, the Weasleys were now fairly well off. He now even had his new textbooks. Life was certainly going up. 

If he only knew what Voldemort was up to… Well, he'd leave that up to Dumbledore. With a twinge of guilt, Harry glanced at the blank parchment. Well, he was going to see Dumbledore soon anyway. He'd tell him then. 

With a satisfied smile Harry lay back on the bed, and dozed off, still smiling. 


	3. The Embassy from the Burrow

It was an unpleasant night

A/N Hey, this is brilliant! (I'm not talking about my own fic. Authors have a degree of modesty. Now, please excuse the pun) My favorite author reviews me! (Yes, his name is brilliant) Er, no, I'm not actually going to write this in parallel with the Hybrids of Voldemort, I'm going to use that incredible thing called… what was it called? Oh yeah, ORIGINALITY! Anyway, I appreciate all the reviews, and all that. Sorry I haven't gotten these chapters up sooner. I'm pressed for time. But I still need reviews… :: looks pleadingly at the reader::

Pickup Time 

It was an unpleasant night. Harry dreamed that the Weasleys had come and had taken Dudley instead; he dreamed that he missed the Hogwarts Express and had to go the Stonewall High. He was currently being hit with Dudley's Smelting Stick. He tried to dodge it, but it evaded his blows and scored some painful shots on his head.

_"Ow," _he said. He woke up.

It was not yet 4:00. He wondered what was possibly hitting his head, and then discovered Pigwidgeon perched on his nose. Harry irritably brushed him off. He was sure that the Dursleys were sleeping, with the possible exception of Dudley who liked to play computer games into the odd hours of the morning. Harry sat up and picked up his glasses from his bedside. After blearily rubbing his eyes, he put them on.

Harry knew that he had an incredible amount of luggage that he should pack. If he could use magic, the whole room would be cleaned within a matter of seconds-- but that was absolutely forbidden.

Resignedly, Harry got off the bed. He grabbed some parchment and scribbled out:

_ _

_Dear Ron,_

_I think I'll be able to come. I'm glad I'm going to see you all soon. Hope you're having a good time._

Harry 

Harry rolled this up as tightly as he could and with some difficultly, wrapped it around Pigwidgeon's leg. Harry threw Pigwidgeon out the window.

Hooting delightedly, Pigwidgeon nearly hit the ground but recovered just in time to skim a fire hydrant. After watching him for a while, Harry turned and picked up several of his spellbooks, and packed them as tightly as he could into his bag. 

3 hours later, Harry pushed his last robe into his voluminous suitcase, which was packed to its maximum capacity. He could hear the Dursleys stirring. He would have to ask them permission to leave with the Weasleys, but Harry knew that wouldn't be too much trouble. He went downstairs. 

Harry was greeted with the extraordinary vision of Dudley sitting on top of a small conference table at breakfast. He wasn't too surprised, however. After three chairs crushed to splinters, the Dursleys had decided that Dudley needed something more solid. 

Harry sidled into the tight space between Dudley and Uncle Vernon, who promptly slid his chair and his dish some distance away from his current position.

Breakfast, as last year, was a meager fare. Though Uncle Vernon, who had at one point been on the verge of starvation, had changed the diet to something more filling, the improvement was lacking. Dudley and Uncle Vernon were both commissioned one bacon strip and one egg, while Harry still had his grapefruit quarter. 

Harry had, however, carefully placed some preservation charms on some Hogwarts food before he left last year. Some food he had conserved was as good as new. He could go back to his room and eat some sausages and eggs, though his store was nearly emptied. 

Harry spooned the bitter and shrunken grapefruit into his mouth. Uncle Vernon seemed to be taking his time, it seemed as if he was savoring every little bite.

"Er, Uncle Vernon?" Uncle Vernon jumped a foot into the air. The undernourishment and continual strain of lack of food was taking its toll on his nerves. He glared suspiciously behind his moustache at Harry. 

"What do you want?" he snapped. 

"Hog- I mean my school is starting early this year. The Weasleys are coming to pick me up at 9:00. Is that O.K?" 

Uncle Vernon started and cast a worried glance at the clock. He turned on Harry and puffed up like an angry octopus. Sensing a dangerous outburst, Harry intervened.

"Well if I don't go I'll at least have to write to Sirius, you know, my godfather," said Harry, feigning a disappointed voice. This magic phrase had not entirely outlived its usefulness over the summer.

Uncle Vernon was no less appeased by this statement and he was still in a dangerous mood, but he had to admit himself defeated. Two years had not decreased his fear of the convicted murderer in the least.

"Oh, all right," he said resentfully and after some hesitation. He moved over to a tools drawer, opened it, and picked up a hammer.After casting a dark look at Harry, he began to remove the boards that still covered the fireplace.

"Wait," said Harry, moving forward. "They're not coming that way."

"No?" said Uncle Vernon hopefully. He tried, but failed to hide the look of enormous relief that crossed his face. However in an instant he recovered his composure. "All, right, then which way _are_ they coming?" he snarled. Harry couldn't honestly answer. He didn't know.

"I don't know," he said truthfully. Uncle Vernon looked, if possible, even more alarmed. He cast a quick look about the house.

"You—don't know?" he whispered in a strangled voice. 

"No," said Harry. "I don't know." This was one of the few areas where Uncle Vernon was vulnerable—he was terribly frightened of wizards. The opportunity was too good to miss. 

"But they might be coming through the roof, it's a common way of traveling in the wizar- In my world." Harry added. He turned around. "They might be bringing more toffees, if you want some," Harry shouted over his shoulder. The effect was immediate and effective—Uncle Vernon had a face that was tight and drawn as if he had been assigned to Dudley's original diet for the rest of his life. Harry took off up the stairs and went into his room. 

He glanced at the clock-- it was scarcely 7:30. Harry would have to wait a while. He absently picked up a random book off of the bookshelf filled with Dudley's untouched books. It was a book about sea animals.

In truth, Harry had already read the books on the shelf 3 times over, but it was only out of sheer boredom that he read them. The books, though interesting, were written in such simple language that a baby who had barely mastered the alphabet could understand. Harry supposed Uncle Vernon had some vague idea of the intelligence of Dudley, as unlikely as it seemed.

Harry passed the time by eating some sausages and picking the details of the book on sea creatures to bits. He glanced at the bedside clock. 8:56. He would still have a five minute's wait. He threw the book haphazardly onto the floor and lay back.

Suddenly there was an almighty crash and an earsplitting yell.

"YAAAAAAARRRGGGGGGGGHHHH!!!!!" 

Uncle Vernon crashed up the stairs and wrenched Harry's door open. His jaw gaped stupidly as he stared at Harry.

"Yes?" said Harry innocently. There was a babble of voices downstairs and another high pitched shriek. As if prompted by the yelp, Uncle Vernon said nothing but grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him roughly downstairs, where he met an unpleasant view.

The whole living room lay in ruin and in the center there lay a bright red Lincoln and the Weasleys.

"Arthur, I thought you weren't going to fly it--"

"Molly, I didn't mean…"

"Didn't mean indeed! Look at this poor man's home!"

Being referred to as a "poor man" did not go with Uncle Vernon well at all, but he was still too much shell-shocked to do much. 

Harry looked up. 

The roof had a large hole torn through it. As he watched, a broken plank fell despondently onto the Dursley's best couch. Harry looked anxiously through the window to see if any Muggles were coming, but strangely no one seemed to pay any attention. 

"Hey Harry," said Ron, grinning.

Harry grinned and waved. However he quickly crossed over to the window and drew the shades.

"It's all right," shouted Ron over the din. "Dad's put Muggle disinterest charms all over the house. They ignore this house completely. They won't even _remember_ this place unless someone mentioned it."

Harry breathed a sigh of inward relief. It wasn't worth it to have the Weasley's in deeper trouble than what was coming from the Ministry anyway. 

Harry walked over to the car. He wasn't exactly stunned that Mr. Weasley had made another flying car, but he thought he would have learned his lesson. "Here, come in," said Ron, opening the door. Though originally the Lincoln was designed for only five people, Harry could see it could easily make room for twelve. He scooted in next to Ron and slammed the door shut. He looked up. 

Uncle Vernon was still staring at the wreck of his house with a gaze of unbelievable stupefaction and shock. Harry could see his mouth vainly 

attempting to speak. 

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley seemed to have gotten over their argument and were surveying the house and the Dursleys, though Mrs. Weasley still had the look of disgruntlement and displeasure. Mr. Weasley seemed to take Uncle Vernon's shock personally. His face the very image of pity and remorse, he spoke. "Er, I'm sorry."

Uncle Vernon jumped a foot into the air and stared at Mr. Weasley ferociously. "Sorry?" he whispered in a strangulated voice. Meanwhile Aunt Petunia was fearfully watching from the kitchen door. 

"Er, yes," said Mr. Weasley. "I'm terribly sorry about this whole mess." He waved a hand at the direction of the hole "I'll fix this up before I leave," he added anxiously. Mr. Weasley seemed nervous, and it was no wonder as he had just wantonly destroyed half the Dursley's house. 

"Well, I'll be going now," said Mr. Weasley quietly. He pulled at the steering wheel. 

Harry was jolted back in his seat as the car rocketed upward. It sailed neatly through the hole in the roof and hovered above the house. 

"Sorry," shouted Mr. Weasley again. He pulled out his wand and waved it several times at the house. The planks flew up into place and interlocked, making the house as complete as before. Mr. Weasley pushed the accelerator and flew over Privet Drive. Harry sat back in his seat and sighed. He would be headed to his real home at last. 

A/N And I don't mean the Weasley's house, I mean Hogwarts. Yes, you know, that one, where they sing that school song 

"Hogwarts Hogwarts hoggy warty Hogwarts" etc. I don't like the ending, and I might fix it up later. 

Please read and review, I need reviews if I want to live… and sorry about the huge delay between chapters. You can blame me for that. 


	4. The End of a Summer

A/N: I know that many authors have the annoying tendency to wait for immense amounts of time before publishing their next chapter, but I do admit, this _does _push the extreme.

The red Lincoln landed with a rude bump in front of the Burrow. Careening wildly, the car spiraled off in a tangent with Mr. Weasley struggling to regain control, but despite his efforts, the Lincoln skidded into the front yard. When the smoke finally cleared, Harry cautiously opened the door to see several shell-shocked chickens staring dazedly at him. The Weasleys, on the other hand, seemed to think that this was perfectly normal, and once they had descended from the car, Mr. Weasley absently waved his wand at the Lincoln, which then drew itself, in a dignified and superior manner, to the driveway. 

The Burrow was larger than Harry remembered. There seemed to be several new rooms tacked haphazardly to the main frame of the house, and Harry could see a room that was sticking out by itself on the fourth floor. Harry went into one of these rooms and saw that it was done in tasteful late-Victorian interior decoration with portraits of late Victorian families on the walls, with the fiery red hair in the picture itching to burst into flame. Harry, with some surprise, could see a sullen looking Ron standing in the corner of a large painting. He was pulled disgustedly at his extravagant tuxedo, and went back to being sullen again. 

The bed seemed to have a personalized style adjustment system, and when Harry sat on it, the blankets suddenly pictured him zooming around on a broomstick, and the cloth Harry in the bed sheet stopped to give Harry a smile and a wave. Some of the paintings on the wall that had not been about the Weasleys now featured Harry either catching the Snitch or Harry dodging a Bludger. Bemused, Harry was about to walk out when Mr. Weasley entered the room, whereupon the room's main concept seemed to be about strange whirring contraptions and dismantled cars and watches, though one of the paintings showed a delighted Mr. Weasley going on a trip to Egypt. 

"Ah, there you are Harry!" said Mr. Weasley. "This is our new guest room. Well, this is where you will reside for the rest of the summer. Welcome to our new home." Mr. Weasley spread his arms out majestically and smiled. Harry was forcibly reminded of the hotel commercials on TV. Glancing at the bedspread again, Harry could see a tiny WWW insignia written at the base. 

"Yes," said Mr. Weasley, confirming Harry's thought. "This was manufactured by Fred and George. We owe a lot to them." Mr. Weasley was suddenly smiling dreamily, and Harry saw that the largest picture in the room was now featuring the flying Lincoln. "Well, there it is," said Mr. Weasley.

*                                              *                                              *

            An uneventful week passed at the Burrow, if one could call any moment at the Burrow uneventful. Harry was now thoroughly used to his reflection sneering at his messy hair every morning, it seemed as if the family ghoul had taken a vacation, and the garden gnomes were content to chase the chickens. Ginny Weasley was still blushing inconsolably whenever Harry came so much as ten yards in her radius.  Harry spent most of his time reading Ron's collection of "Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle" or playing Quidditch, though he preferred to fly rather than read the escapades of a man who spent most of his time phoning everyone in the London phone book.

            Several days passed, and with remarkable suddenness, September 1 and the Hogwarts Express slid into existence around Harry.  He looked out the window and saw a merrily waving Mr and Mrs. Weasley. Harry turned back and sat. This was going to be yet another year.

A/N: Yes, that is incredibly short for a 4 month delay, but since anyone doesn't read this anyway… Please r/r.


	5. The Death Eater

Harry Potter and the Rise of Darkness

Chapter 5: The Death Eater

The Hogwarts Express moved at a pleasant pace, and Harry enjoyed watching out the window, seeing the cows and green fields move by. As the day drew on, the sky became darker, and Harry withdrew his attention from the landscape to the game of Exploding Snap that Ron and Hermione were engaged in. Just as Ron triumphantly pulled a winning card from the stack, the whole lot exploded.

"The thing about this deck," said Ron bitterly as Hermione superiorly won with a pair of twos, "Is that it always makes me lose to the most smallest deals."

Harry laughed, and went on to win against Ron with a pair of threes.

Harry was the first to hear the rain splattering down on the roof of the car, lashing itself furiously on the speeding train. He looked out the window, and saw that the sky outside was completely black, not even punctuated by the brief flashes of lightning that thunder indicated.

The Chocolate Frogs that Harry had bought earlier lay in a heap in an adjacent seat. Ron proceeded to direct his attention to those as Hermione buried her nose in another book, and Harry played solitaire with the Exploding Snap cards.

As Ron pulled a card from another one of the interminable Chocolate Frogs packets (The others lay in a sad heap next to the empty packaging; Agrippa had still not been found), the train suddenly screeched to a stop and the whole compartment was left in darkness.

"Hello, what's this?" said Ron irritably. Harry remembered his third year, the only other time the train had stopped on the long ride, and he could tell that this wasn't going to be a happy occasion either. "Something's up," he said. 

"Yeah," said Ron, and Harry could tell that he was frowning. "Wonder what's happening--"

In the darkness, the silence was suddenly ruptured by a series of distant screams.

"Wands out," said Harry, startled. He pulled out his own and he could hear Ron and Hermione do the same. 

They waited for a few minutes in the darkness-- he could feel the train rocking crazily on the rails; the screams continued, growing steadily louder -- 

"They're coming this way," whispered Hermione. Harry gripped his wand more tightly.

Out the compartment window, Harry could see the lights of various spells and charms. He could once swear that he saw the unearthly flashes of green light that perpertuated his nightmares-- he wasn't be sure, though-- he couldn't tell what was exactly going on. The rain suddenly grew more thunderous and dimmed what little he could hear then. "Lumos!" he whispered.

The wandlight lit the compartment like an aura; Harry dimmed the brightness of the spell, and crept out towards the door, meaning to open it and see what exactly was happening outside, but the door opened before he reached it.

Startled, he yelled "Stupefy!" before he had a chance to register what he had seen open the door, but the spell had no effect on the personage as he might have done on stone. Harry backed away from the door and the person who stood framed inside it-- he kept his wand pointed at the person-- the man was probably going to attack...

The man stepped inside and watched them all. He did not have his wand out, but for all that mattered, it had a similar effect as if he was threatening them with a wizard's staff. His eyes loomed out in the half-light, and in the midst of all the screaming, Harry could hear Hermione give a whimper. 

It was a Death Eater. 


End file.
